


Circumvent

by Salihe



Series: Comment!Fic [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salihe/pseuds/Salihe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Run, run to survive the night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Purgatory ficlet (spoilers thorugh season 7)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circumvent

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the season 7 finale. 
> 
> Should I warn for overuse of imperative sentences?
> 
> This was a detour from my normal writing style, and I almost want to call it a poem instead of a fanfic. Con-crit is always welcome.
> 
>  
> 
> For rainylemons's prompt at mad_server's S7 Finale Hurt Dean Meme. The prompt was: _"The trees can uproot themselves and move if they've a mind to. The ground whispers when he lays his head down. The scent of blood and musk constantly on the wind and he's either fresh meat for countless monsters that have only had each other to chew on for centuries or he's someone they want to kill personally. Dean runs. He hides. He makes Rambo traps out of nothing when the trees are so gracious to leave limbs behind and fashions himself what weapons he can. But, it's only a matter of time and he wonders if Cas will pop back in before he's a chew toy."_
> 
>  
> 
> Written pre-season 8.

Thunder booms, murky black clouds spool across the sky, devour what dim light penetrates the atmosphere.  Glance upward, sigh with the reprieve; it’s not the sulfuric haze that rains down acid from the skies.    
  
Put on an extra burst of speed; the hoard is close behind.    
  
Run.    
Run faster.    
They’re coming.    
  
Cross the rancid stream.  Turn north. Never go south; they’re waiting there, waiting with teeth and claws, stingers and venom, talons and fangs.  Stomachs growl, jaws drip acid saliva, eyes burn with hunger.  There’s fresh meat in the forest.  
  
Never.  
Go.  
South.  
  
Twisting branches, carnivorous scrub, scrabble against exposed skin; tearing, rending, shredding.  Break right, the ravine’s not far.  Get to where the forest can’t follow.  
  
Get to the ravine.  
  
Find the marker.  Twisted and decayed, looming from the fog across the chasm.  Breath stutters, lungs gasp; dig for the last reserves of strength, pray to a God who’s no longer there, and jump.  
  
Free-fall.  
Plunge.  
Where is it?  
Oh God!  
Where is it?  
  
There!  
  
Grasp the vine, swing across the abyss.  Shoulders scream, hands strain, hold on.  Just a little longer.  Almost there.  Wait.  Wait.  
  
Let go!  
  
Hit the ground, roll with the momentum; limbs tangle, scrabble for purchase, seek solid ground.    
  
Crash to a halt.    
Can’t stop.    
Where are they?   
  
Look back.  Don’t look.  Have to look.  
  
Growling, snarling, roaring; red eyes closing in.  Muscles bunch, coil, launch into space.  Getting closer, closer, too close!   Claws scrabble, seek purchase, scrape, fumble, nothing.   
  
Falling, dropping, snarling, screaming, crashing.    
  
Silence.  
  
Sigh in relief, head bows to toward the ground.  Just a minute, take just a minute, a minute too long.  
  
Rustle behind, snap of a twig, presence encroaching.   Grope for a weapon, any weapon, anything.   
  
Hold.    
Hold steady.  
Wait for an opening.  
  
Spin around; prepare to strike, mouth snarling like a creature of the woods.  Figure looms, eyes glow, fog swirls; shadows condense to a familiar visage, outspread wings.  
  
Exhale.  Sag to the ground.  Tension bleeds away.  
  
Voice like thunder breaks the stillness.  
  
 _Hello Dean._  
  



End file.
